Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Kuwait and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Matthew Halsall to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kaleidoscope record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Raincoats,
John Lydon,
Niagra,
Man Parrish,
Howard Jones,
Wally Richardson,
Minny Pops,
The Blackbyrds,
The Music Machine,
Roy Ayers,
Ossler,
Henry Cow,
The Smoke,
New York Dolls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Black Pus,
Dorothy Ashby,
Aswad,
The Shadows of Knight,
Skarface,
Max Romeo,
Leonard Cohen,
Little Man,
Johnny Osbourne,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Kinks,
Youth Brigade,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Los Fastidios,
Sixth Finger,
Ponytail,
Quando Quango,
Mission of Burma,
Vladislav Delay,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gang Starr,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Technova,
Gil Scott Heron,
Black Moon,
Procol Harum,
Ituana,
Eden Ahbez,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Joensuu 1685,
The Durutti Column,
Boz Scaggs,
Anthony Braxton,
Archie Shepp,
Kurtis Blow,
Lindisfarne,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kaleidoscope,
F. McDonald,
Duran Duran,
Thee Headcoats,
Crash Course in Science,
Half Japanese,
Pussy Galore,
One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.